


Irrepairable

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are somethings that can’t be fixed, no matter how much one tries. Dick learns that the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tim was ready to be done. Coming back to Gotham hadn’t been a part of his plan. But when Bruce called, he came. He had to. Dealing with the newest set of trails left him drained and exhausted. Even if he had to stay in a place that brought too many memories, he was glad to be in a safe place to sleep.

He was just peeling off his gloves when he heard someone enter the cave. Turning to look, he was greeted with a pleasantly familiar sight.

“Dick, I was wondering when…” Tim paused, two steps away from the older male. “Dick, is everything okay?”

The smile on Dick’s face was tighter than normal. It hadn’t looked that strained since the days of Blockbuster. “What are you talking about, little brother?”

Tim frowned, “bad patrol?”

“You could say that. Come here.”

There was only a brief hesitation before Tim stepped close. In the days to come, he would deeply regret that choice.

Dick’s hand slid across Tim’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. He shifted as if he was going to hold to Tim to his chest. It wouldn’t have been unusual, even wonderfully familiar; a sign of much needed comfort for bother of them. But Dick’s hands were tightening strangely.

For a split second, Tim tensed, but he was in a safe place with a person he trusted. The vaguely soothing thought, urged his muscles back into relaxation.

That was when Dick moved.

It was too fast to see coming, too out of the blue.

Tim heard, more than felt, the blinding crush of computer against his cheek. He heard bone shatter and unforgiving metal ring with the sound of impact.

Dick’s hand, not pausing, shifted to his throat. His hand was tight and cruel. “Just so trusting aren’t you, little brother?” He sneered.

The words and pain rocked Tim’s senses. He didn’t know what had happened. Thoughts dizzied and air hard to come by, he didn’t have the capacity to respond. He managed a small noise, but he couldn’t decide if it was pain or shock.

Dick yanked him back, allowing a brief moment of composure. It just wasn’t long enough. Tim’s cheek throbbed, blood pouring out of his nose. His head was buzzing and his throat felt clogged. The most he got was a chance to get his arms up in defense.

It did little to stop Dick’s knee slamming into his chest.

Three ribs protested, gave up and snapped under the pressure. It was only years of training that stopped Tim’s shriek of pain.

“D-dick! What’re you doing?”

“And here I thought you were the smart one,” Dick spat, fist shooting out and backing Tim into a corner. “Should have known better. Always walking around with that stupid look on your face.”

A sharp, sicking crunch echoed in the cave. Tim gasped out at the horrid feeling of Dick stomping down on his foot, crushing the fragile bones. His world was spinning out of control faster than he could get a grip onto. He just couldn’t understand what Dick was saying. Why he was pulling out all of these truths that Tim had worked his whole life to ignore.

“No wonder your parents didn’t want you. Why Bruce took so long to adopt you. No one wants to have a stupid son in their family.”

Dick’s words were punctuated with harsh hits and even harder kicks. He knocked Tim to the ground, knee grinding into his stomach and keeping him still. He had the worst grin on his face. It was more fitting for the Joker, not Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder.

“Maybe Bruce was hoping Jason would just kill you before he had to sign the adoption papers. Save himself, hell, all of us, the trouble. I know i was.”

Tim choked. His hands scrambled over Dick’s thigh, trying to push him off. The weight crushed down on his diaphragm, cutting off what little air he had left. His vision was clouding over, horribly it was partly because of tears.

For the first time in a long time, he hoped someone would come to the cave.

Dick leaned all his weight on the one knee. “You’re so weak. Trying to protect yourself. But you never can, can you? Someone else always has to come save you. Clean up your shit.” He bounced on the knee, hard. He used Tim as a human spring board, getting up straight and tall.

Tim could feel muscles tearing, all chance of breathing leaving him. He turned on his stomach, flattening his hand on the ground to get back to his feet. He couldn’t even think anymore. He knew all these things, he’d been thinking them since he had learn how. That didn’t mean he wanted to hear them; from his idol no less.

With a deliberate slowness, Dick stepped down on Tim’s hand. He increased pressure until fingers snapped and Tim gave a gurgled cry.

“You’re pathetic. You’re–”

The next string of terrible truths never came to Tim’s ears. Dick’s voice was cut off and the foot disappeared. Tim dropped onto his stomach, unwilling, choking, sobs escaping him.

“Tim?”

Bruce’s voice had never sounded so unsure. It should never sound so nervous. He knelt down next to him, his hand moving out to grasp Tim’s shoulder. He was granted no response, other than the blood and tears rolling down a battered face. A quiet sigh escaped the old vigilante.

“Alfred, I need you down here now,” he called to the ever listening computer.

In almost no time, the elderly man arrived. “Such late hours, Master Bruce,” he started, prim as always. “Even the young master Damian has… Oh dear.” Alfred took in the scene and stopped. “I shall clean after I fix Master Timothy, shall I?”

It wasn’t until Bruce turned to his computer that he understood what Alfred had meant.

Blood was smeared over the metal, soaking into the keys and crevices.

The blood couldn’t stay. Not waiting for Alfred, Bruce grabbed a towel and bleach. He hated to see his sons blood. Whether in the battle or at home, he refused to let it stay. He scrubbed it off, ignoring the sting of bleach that hit his nose.

He needed that blood off of his computer, now.

Only after did he move Dick upstairs. When he was awake would Bruce think on what to do with him. He returned to his bleach-ridden computer and turned on the security tapes.

Hours seemed to pass as Bruce reviewed the surveillance. He had to make some sense of what happened. Even at his worst, Dick was not the type to raise his hand against another. Especially against Tim.

Listening was the hardest. The words cut at Bruce more than he thought they ever could. Those words would break Tim before anyone had the chance to tell him otherwise. Bruce had had to fix a large number of things in his life, but this would be the hardest.

“He’ll heal in time,” Alfred announced, sounding far grimmer than he had any right to. “But… With the housing situation as it is, I do not recommend Master Timothy stay here while he heals.”

There was a pause as both watched the footage run again.

“I agree,” Bruce finally replied.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick had woken up with some bad headaches in his life time. But this particular one had them all beat. His head throbbed and any form of movement made him sick to his stomach. It was like he’d gone to half of the liquor stores of Gotham and drank everything they had to offer.

A groan left him as he tried to remember what had happened the night before. His knuckles hurt. His muscles felt pulled to their; he just couldn’t understand why. limits.

Very carefully, he sat up in bed. There was a long pause as he made sure his world stopped spinning.

The knock on his door very well could have come from an army of giants.

“Yeah?” He called, wincing at his own voice.

Alfred opened the door, checking inside. There was an almost hesitancy to his movements. “Ah, i see you’re awake. The poison is all gone, I take it?”

“Poison?” Dick repeated lamely, watching Alfred open the door a little further.

“No memory?”

Dick shook his head.

“Possibly for the best. I just wished to inform you that lunch is ready, if you’re so inclined.”

“Thanks, Alf.”

The door closed behind the older man, leaving questions and a very empty stomach.

A frown pulled over Dick’s features as he tried to fathom Alfred’s words. That, even on the best of days, tended to be impossible. Shrugging it off, he pushed himself out of bed.

Only once he had dressed and gotten himself vaguely presentable did he head downstairs.

In the kitchen he was greeted with a rather strange look from Damian and a plate of Alfred’s award winning pancakes.

“Hey lil’ D, how was patrol?” Dick asked, sliding into his seat and doing his best to appear up-beat.

Damian’s expression suggested he was sizing Dick up before considering an answer. “Well enough. Poison Ivy did not present too much of a problem.”

Dick’s fork stopped in front of his mouth. “Poison Ivy?” He seemed to be repeating things a lot today, he thought as he shoved his forkful into his mouth.

Damian frowned but nodded.

There was a slight pause in Dick’s eating as he thought about Ivy. The thought of her was struggling to come up from his misplaced memories. He mulled them over while he ate. He didn’t bother to listen to Damian argue with Alfred over the best way to make true Hunayni.

“Do not say such words, Master Damian. My cooking is hardly pathetic.”

Dick stilled, body going rigid. That word shot through his memory, unlocking a Pandora’s Box of pain. His fork clattered to the plate and he lurched off of his chair.

“Master Richard?”

Dick didn’t have time to respond as he rushed to the bathroom. What little food he’d eaten was lost into the toliet. Not that his body would stop there. He didn’t stop until his stomach hurt and he was heaving nothing but choked sounds.

The pounding in his temples increased ten-fold. Shivers wracked his body, sending spells of dizziness.

A large, warm hand rested on his shoulders.

“How bad is he?” Dick croaked out.

“You don’t need to know that,” Bruce replied.

Dimly, Dick was aware of Bruce guiding him gently back to his room. He babbled unfulfilled requests to let him go, to let him see Tim. To let him see how much damage he had caused.

Bruce pressed his hand against Dick’s chest, forcing him to lay back on the bed. His expression was stony. The last time Dick had seen that was when he found out Clark Kent had died.

“I didn’t kill him did I?” Dick demanded, grabbing Bruce’s wrist.

Bruce shook his head but it didn’t make Dick feel any better. “He’s healing. Which you need to do too. You’ll both be fine.”

Dick opened his mouth only to have Bruce shake his head again, silencing him. He dropped back against the pillows, fighting the urge to throw up again. “Bruce…” He swallows, taking a moment before continuing to talk. “Will everything be okay?”

A pregnant pause dropped over them. Bruce looked like he was searching for something in Dick’s face. Whatever it was, he found it because he nodded.

“It will be.”


	3. Chapter 3

It took a week and a half before Dick could even learn where Tim was. He’d fought with and begged for the information. He’d even tried the silent treatment. Granted it only lasted two hours, he’d still tried.

“He’s in the Penthouse,” Damian had snapped, exasperated.

Dick had been following each member of the Wayne Manor around to get the information he wanted. While Alfred and Bruce had lived with Dick for enough years to be able to ignore him, Damian had not. Which meant that bothering him incessantly for three hours finally paid off.

“He’s there because father doesn’t think he’d be safe here.”

“Safe..?” Dick’s foot paused mid-step. “He doesn’t think I’ll attack again, does he?”

Damian gave him a level luck. “You know father better than most, what do you think?”

Dick’s stomach tightened painfully. He nodded. Without another word to Damian, he took off for the Cave. “I want to see Tim,” he announced before he’d even hit the bottom step.

“No,” Bruce replied, not looking up from his reports.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You need to stay home.”

A small alarm went off on the computer, announcing a new e-mail. Bruce looked up at it. He’d spent days trying to unravel Poison Ivy’s newest threat. In the end, he’d found a strange hybrid between mind-control and Crane’s fear gas.

The poison ate at memories, dragging up anything that could be used against someone. There was no one Tim trusted more than Dick. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Dick would know what would hurt Tim most. With the poison flooding his system, Dick would use all of those fears against him.

Despite the results, Tim’s e-mail back didn’t bode well. The young man still seemed convinced that Dick meant them. ‘Those thoughts don’t just appear, Bruce,' Tim had finished in his answer.

“Is that an e-mail from Tim?” Dick asked, hovering over Bruce’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Bruce said, closing the program.

“So, he’s not bed-ridden.”

Bruce’s hand paused over his keys. “No, not really.”

“Not really? Bruce! Come on, I need to see him. Please!” Dick begged, grabbing Bruce’s sleeve. The action was so childish, so needy, Bruce had to look up at him. “Please.”

Bruce sighed. “Fine. But you won’t like what you see.” He shrugged Dick off and stood up. “Alfred,” he called into the intercom. “Take us to Tim.”

“Us?”

“Dick and I.”

“I shall get the car ready,” Alfred answered after a brief silence.

-/-

An hour later and Dick was hesitating to get into the elevator. He’d managed to convince Bruce to stop at a flower shop. He needed something to give to Tim. Anything to prove that he was sorry. Gifts always made things better. They were a second best to a hug.

“You wanted to do this alone,” Bruce reminded, standing next to him.

“I know,” Dick mumbled, hand gripping the flower stems almost to breaking point.

Steeling himself, he stepped into the elevator. He missed Bruce’s concerned frown or the way he looked like he was going to stop Dick. His thoughts were too preoccupied to worry about Bruce. His hands shook, forcing him to ball them into fists. By the time the elevator stopped his heart was pounding so hard he was sure he’d pass out.

Not even giving himself the chance to hesitate, Dick knocked on the Penthouse door. The knock sounded painfully loud.

Silence answered the knock.

“Tim..?” Dick called, hating how his voice shook. “Tim, come on, I need to see you.” He looked up at the camera he knew was over the door. “Please?”

It was another awkwardly long moment before he heard the scrape of the lock and the door opened.

What he had been imagining Tim to look like wasn’t even close to reality.

“I, you..!” Dick jerked back, dropping the flowers. He hadn’t expected a wheelchair. He’d thought, or rather hoped, that Tim would just have a small bruise, maybe a bandage. Not a horribly fading black eye or the covered nose. He spluttered, trying to find his words.

“Hello,” Tim said slowly, obviously wary.

Dick cleared his throat twice, thoughts stumbling over themselves. Not that there was much to think beyond 'I put him in a wheelchair’. If he looked closer he could see thick bandages wrapped tight around Tim’s chest. It made his shirt sit oddly and reminded Dick that every breath had to be painful.

Tim’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Flowers?”

The strangely nasally, disjointed voice rocked Dick to his core. He nodded like his neck was broken. “I, yeah. Hold on.” He dropped down quickly picking them up.

A harsh sneeze and a barely suppressed groan stopped him from getting back to his feet.

“A-are you trying to kill me?” Tim had always been rather terrible at jokes but this seemed to come at the worst possible time.

Dick blinked, mind reeling. “Oh! Fuck, you’re allergic! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” he babbled, standing awkwardly. “I just, I wanted to see you. And talk about what happened. And…”

Tim’s expression made him trail off. He looked so nervous, so uncomfortable. It pained Dick to see that. He hadn’t even looked that harried when he’d been replaced as Robin.

“Dick,” Tim started quietly. “I think you better go.”

Dick’s mouth worked uselessly for a minute. “Yeah, okay.”

The door closed before Dick’s mind had a chance to catch up.

Numbly, Dick turned back toward the elevator. His throat was closing tight, vision tilting strangely. With a sharp noise, he hurled the flowers at the wall. He sunk down to a crouch, hands gripping his hair.

He’d destroyed a relationship that was already on it’s last thread. He’d utterly shattered a person who didn’t deserve it.

His world was teetering on an edge and all he could do was sob into his knees.

“I had warned you,” Bruce stated, stepping out of the elevator. He leaned down to haul Dick back up. “He needs more time. So do you.”

“I fucked up, Bruce. There isn’t going to be enough time in the world,” Dick shot to him, doing his damnedest to not throw up.

Bruce arched an eyebrow. “There is nothing in this world that can not be fixed when given enough time,” he stated, half dragging, half shoving Dick back to the elevator.

“No, I destroyed him. I put him in a wheelchair!”

Dick could barely see through his angry, self-hating tears. He debated fighting Bruce off and just going back to Bludhaven. But Bruce’s hand was tight over his arm and his will was fast declining.

By the time they got back to the car, Dick was silent.

“Could you go up, Alfred?”

The old man nodded. “I shall stay the night here.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said gratefully.

Alfred headed back inside as Bruce took his place in the driver’s seat. Dick was tucked into the backseat. In silence, they returned to the manor.

The whole way there, Dick convinced himself that Tim hated him.

This couldn’t be fixed, no matter what Bruce said.


	4. Chapter 4

Three painfully uncomfortable months passed before Dick allowed himself to see Tim again.

It wasn’t as if Dick had to go out of his way to avoid Tim either.

Since Dick’s failed visit, Tim had shut everyone out. He’d stopped talking to Bruce and only allowed Alfred in for a visit once a week. As Tim healed, however, the visits had been reduced to once every two weeks.

Not even Barbara had managed to get through to him and she’d always been in communication with him even at the worst of times.

Patrol had been silent. Bruce hadn’t allowed Dick to go out on his own for almost a month. And he was very hesitant to let even Damian go with him. Which meant Dick was stuck going around with Batman and Robin like some sort of guilty dog.

Even when he’d been let off the hook, he didn’t feel up to going out on the city.

He’d holed himself up in his old room, only really coming out for food or training in the Cave.

For the most part, he was left alone. Dick needed the time to himself. He had to understand what had happened and find a way to fix it.

Bruce had allowed him to see the results of the poison. It helped ease his guilt, but not by much. Whatever the science proved, it didn’t change what Tim believed.

“Master Richard,” Alfred stated, exasperated as he moved through Dick’s room. “You must get out of your room. I have enough trouble cleaning one cave, I won’t tolerate a second.”

Dick mumbled something in response.

Alfred stopped, lifting a pair of pants he was sure he’d already washed. “You’ll go out on tonight. Leave this room and find some fresher air.”

“I’m not going out,” Dick grumbled, knowing full well how childish it made him sound.

“Yes, you shall. Staying here isn’t doing anything in way of apologizing to Master Timothy, now is it?”

Dick winced. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Trying talking. I do believe communication is important,” Alfred said sardonically, tossing a pile of dirty socks into the laundry hamper.

“But how? Last time I saw him I dropped a bouquet of flowers he’s allergic to into his lap. And the time before that, I almost killed him.”

Alfred straightened his jacket primly. “And letting him sit by himself without talking is only adding to his suspicions.”

Dick frowned from his spot on the bed. “Suspicions?”

“You know as well as I do that Timothy has a tendency to over-think things. Your silence will only confirm that you do not care for him.”

“He hasn’t been talking either!”

Alfred almost rolled his eyes. Only dignity, manners and employment stopped him. “One day you boys will learn that someone must always take the first step and be the more mature one. Until that time I will have to suffice with raising five year olds.”

Dick slouched, looking guilty. He plucked at his sheets, avoiding looking at Alfred. “Okay… I’ll go out tonight,” he muttered.

“Very good. I expect you back at one.”

-/-

Dick didn’t think he’d ever stared at a door so hard. If he had powers, he would have melted it by now. His body felt like led and his heart was stuck in his throat. Slowly, he lifted his hand.

Before he could knock, the door opened.

Tim and Dick blinked at each other, one with his hand raise awkwardly, the other paused in the middle of typing on his phone.

“Uhh… Hey,” Dick greeted intelligently.

Tension visibly pulled over Tim’s shoulders. “Hey,” he replied.

“Good… Good to see you standing.”

Dick could have kicked himself. That was not a good way to continue a conversation, no matter how true.

Tim did look better than last time. His eye wasn’t black anymore and his nose wasn’t taped. But his hand was still bandaged, he couldn’t keep the weight on one leg and his breathing still looked uncomfortable.

“Did you come here for something?” Tim asked, hands tight on his phone.

“I, yes. Can I–? Were you leaving?”

Tim glanced to his phone, a massive debate playing in his head. “It can wait,” he said finally, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Did you… want to come inside?”

Dick could have collapsed in relief. “Please?”

Tim stepped aside to let him in.

Without pause, Dick hurried inside.

The Penthouse was unnaturally clean. It looked like no one had ever lived there. Clearly Tim had scrubbed the place down as soon as he could. Cleaning had always been a way to help him thinking. That or burying himself in work. Which, judging from Bruce’s comments about the W.E., Tim had done just that.

Dick looked around the place, only briefly wondering how Tim had lived the past few months. “Can we sit down?”

“If you want,” Tim replied, letting Dick go first into the living room.

It stung to know Tim refused to let Dick follow. But Dick had to push it aside. He had to make things right. To prove that he wasn’t going to do anything, Dick sat down on the couch and rested his hands on his thighs.

Every action was slow and careful.

Tim remained standing and just a few feet away. “What did you want?”

Dick swallowed. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For?”

“Everything. What I said. What I did.” Dick locked his gaze on Tim’s face. “I didn’t mean any of it. I could never hurt you like that. Not willingly.”

Something flashed in Tim’s eyes. “But you did.”

Dick bit his lip and nodded. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Those things don’t just happen, Dick. Those thoughts had to have come from somewhere,” Tim stated, looking more rigid as time went on.

“I didn’t mean them! The poison just. I made me.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Nice excuse.”

Dick shot up from the couch. “It’s not an excuse! I could never do that to you! I can’t hurt you! I threw up as soon as I knew what I’d done. I haven’t eaten right in weeks. I can’t sleep when I think about that chair. And I just.” He stopped, breathing heavy, hands balled into fists.

Tim watched him, face blank and muscles tight. “You’ve hurt me before. This hasn’t been the first time.”

“Tim, please, we talked about the Robin thing. These aren’t related. They–”

“How could they not be?” Tim snapped, voice so anguished Dick was taken aback. “You told me you thought we were equals. But you replaced me. Then-then, this happens! What am I supposed to think? Which version is true? The lie to make me feel better or the truth from when you’re poisoned?”

Dick gaped. “You think I was lying?”

“Of course I do.”

Dick lifted his hands, struggling to not grab his hair and rip it out. He shook, needing to pace, to move. “I can’t believe you think like that. I didn’t lie to you. I could never.”

“You have before.”

“I know I have before! I just wasn’t then. I meant that. We’re equals, brothers,” Dick said, stopping to stare at Tim. “I trust you with my life, with my secrets. At one time you trusted me with yours.”

“Not anymore.”

Both men fell into silence.

Dick’s heart was dropping into ice. His throat was closing back up. He couldn’t think of two words that hurt more than Tim’s.

“Tim… Please.”

“No, Dick. I told you those things because I thought you cared. I thought you could be trusted. But you used them against me.” Tim turned away, moving toward the door. “I’m leaving and you should be too.”

Dick lurched forward, grabbing Tim’s arm. He ignored the way the muscles went tight under his touch or the brief look of fear on Tim’s face.

“Don’t leave. Tim, please, I’m trying to explain. Please, stay.”

Tim’s throat clenched in a hard swallow. “Let go of me and I’ll stay,” he said after a heart-pounding silence.

Dick instantly obliged and let go. “It’s not an excuse,” he started before Tim could change his mind. “But Ivy’s poison made me say that. I have never told anyone what you said and I have never thought to use them against you. It’s just… It was like everything you said, every fear was being yanked up and I just hated you for it.”

“So you do hate those weaknesses?”

“No! No, never! I love them!”

Tim stared, disbelief written over his features. “What..?”

“Tim, those things that you worry over. All those little quirks and paranoias you have, it’s just another thing I love about you. I hate the fact that you think you’re not good enough. But I love how you just use it to push you forward.”

Dick hesitated before reaching forward to grasp Tim’s arm again. This time he wasn’t met with such fear. It was enough to calm him back down.

“I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re pathetic. I could never think those things. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And… I know a lot of people." Dick offered him a smile. "You’re the only people I know who can go through so much pain and still keep going. I know I would have given up years ago if I had to through half of the shit you do. You’re a beast.”

A weak sort of smile crossed Tim’s features at that. “But… What about those things about Bruce and my parents.”

“It…” Dick looked to the ground. “I’ve always been a bit jealous of how much Bruce trusts you in the field. I guess I just lashed out.”

“You’re jealous… of me?”

Dick nodded.

Tim was silent a long moment before he sighed and shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

Dick grinned, deeply relieved to hear Tim’s voice settling back into something familiar. It wasn’t as close to normal as he would have liked but it was as much as he was going to get.

“So… You believe me?”

“Maybe. I’ll get there,” Tim said, moving his hand to cover Dick’s.

“Then, we’re good, or better?”

Tim smiled gently. “We’ll get there.”


End file.
